Alone Yet Together
by Hannah Rubix
Summary: The pain was too much for her to bare, the numbing of her senses just made it all the worse. She put everyone through so much, and now they didn't have to worry about her anymore. She was going away forever.


I know she has chlymidia, but just pretend she can kiss Peter. Rate and Review please!

Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi or anything involved.

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Her light hair swinging over her shoulders as she opened the door quietly, Darcy scanned the large room she had walked into. Not only was this house huge, but it seemed to be filled with the boring furniture, the sort of thing an art collector would have in their house. She was again stricken about how different her boyfriend was from his parents, or rather, his mother. The rooms looked empty, from what she could see, with nothing very personal in them. The house was also dimly lit, not very bright at all. "Peter?" She called, wondering where he could be. She cautiously took a step forward, trying to figure out where he was. She could see a few warm touches he had added to the house, like a camera left on one of the tables, a few loose papers in a schoolbook, and a lot of framed pictures. She saw some of Peter and a few others guys, some of Peter and his mom, a few of Degrassi, and was surprised to see one picture, on a glass coffee table, of her and Peter in the school gym. She felt her cheeks deepen in color as she remembered that, that day of no cares except for Spirit Squad money and fun. Even then, when she was dating Spinner, she had felt an undeniable pull, an immediate attraction to Peter. She wasn't angry with him, not right now. Even though he told Danny and Derek, who in turn told the entire school and Kim that she wasn't a virgin, she couldn't stay mad at him, partly because he suspected the truth, he almost knew it. He had practically told Emma and Manny and Jane, but she couldn't stay mad at him. Their relationship was too perfect, too precious to her; she couldn't screw it up. "In here," came the muffled reply.

She followed the voice as well as she could, trying to figure which room he was in of the two doors in the hallway she was standing in. His house was bigger than hers, with so much more stuff in it. Including his tiny bedroom, stuffed with boxes and storage. Just seeing Peter's bedroom like that made her even more in love with him, seeing he would endure that just to ease up on his mother. But she was relieved not to be going into his room. She could barely understand why she had come here. She wanted to forget the past month, to have never gone on that ski trip or that party, to never have proposed going on the trip. Darcy felt like screaming just to see what would happen, to scream and scream until it was over. She wanted to break down and cry, but she couldn't. She felt trapped inside of herself, paralyzed from fear that _he _could see her, _he _could be watching her. She didn't know who _he _was; she lived in constant fear of _his_touch. She could barely eat, she couldn't slip. Only Manny knew, and no one else should. It was better this way, for everyone to think that she had slept with Peter than what had actually happened. She would be looked on like a charity case, with pity and disgust. She would be even more alone, caged, and _he _would find her.

"Hey," she murmured softly, opening the door to the room on the right and letting her eyes widen as she took in what was in the room. It was lit by dozens of candles, all smelling a familiar and comforting scent. It was lavender, her favorite, and he knew that. He had covered the pulled out couch with a deep red duvet, and scattered a few lilies on it. She loved lilies; they symbolized purity and happiness to her. "Peter, this is…wow," she said breathlessly. He was leaning on the doorway, his ever present smirk softening as he took in her stance. "Thanks," he muttered, approaching her. His hands were in his pockets, he looked nervous. She trembled from a mixture of desire and fear, fear of being touched and handled. "You deserve all of this," he said, wrapping his arms around his girlfriend's delicate, slimming body. Darcy looked up at him; trying to get the feelings of fear out of her sister, the feeling of unwanted touching. Peter looked back down at her, his eyes softening even more as he looked her over. "Everything alright?" He asked her huskily, trying to understand what was making her look so disturbed. "Yeah," she responded lightly, wanting just to be with him without any problems.

Darcy's lips met his at that moment, first kissing him tenderly, almost as if afraid she might break, and then moving her lips against him a little more eagerly. He responded to that immediately, his soft lips enthusiastically kissing hers, and then he gently pressed his tongue into her mouth. He wanted to take things slow with Darcy, to make sure that she was comfortable with all he was doing. Peter may be a very physical person, but he loved Darcy, and he wanted to do things the way she wanted to. She responded by letting his tongue into her mouth and slowly massaged it with her own. He used his tongue to trace the shape of her perfect, pouty lips, and then picked her up and placed her on the bed. He kissed her harder, eager at what they were doing. Darcy's eyes opened with a snap, but she kept on kissing him, trying to concentrate on the heat of the moment instead of the growing paranoia in the pit of her stomach. Peter crept his fingers up her tanned stomach lightly, almost tickling her. All of a sudden, Darcy was drowning in his embrace, in his kiss. She pushed away, trying to get out from under him. She moved to get out, but he only took that as more passion. She pried her lips away from his, now imagining that the man on top of her wasn't Peter, it was _him_. With his growing black eyes, rough skin, and horrible smell, she felt smothered, like she was slowly drowning in pain and dread.

"Get off of me!" She cried, trying to punch the man's arms out from around her. She thought she heard an indrawn breath of shock, and of confusion, but all she could concentrate on was the growing fear of not being able to get away. "Please, stop," she was sobbing now, tears falling down her cheeks as she gasped for breath and thrashed around. She was aware of the weight on her finally easing up, and she took that opportunity. "Please…stay away. Don't touch me!" She screamed those final words, and then was aware of a hand on her arm. She tugged her arm away and curled up in a tiny ball, breathing heavily. "Darce, what happened?" Peter asked her, worried about the way she was acting. Darcy's eyes met his, and in a moment of pure relief realized that the blue eyes belonged too Peter, her Peter, not the man that touched her, that violated and hurt her. "Peter, I'm sorry." Those were the only words she could get out of her mouth. "Darcy," he was stroking her hair now, and that slight form of contact made her involuntarily shudder away from him. "There's nothing to be sorry about. You weren't comfortable, and you did the right thing. Can you just tell me what made you scream?"

Darcy's brown eyes hardened a bit, but she nodded. "I wrecked our date, our special night," she tried to show him that what she did was wrong. She wanted him to yell at her, to be mad that she wrecked her special night, but all he did was look at her with that concerned expression that annoyed her. "I-I can't." She couldn't, she couldn't just tell him. "Was I right?" He said softly, trying not to pressure her. "Was I right that we didn't sleep together? I know you wouldn't sleep with anyone Darcy, were you…?" He couldn't say those words, nothing as horrible as that should've happened to her. Darcy's face paled, tears ran down it endlessly. She nodded, she couldn't put together the words that made a sentence complete. "I was tired. I thought it was you, taking me back to my room. But then…but then he shoved me down, and he touched me. He smelled horrible, and he felt coarse. I-I tried to fight him off, but he laughed at me and pushed me down harder. He-he did things to me Peter, things I said I'd never do. He hurt me over and over again until he got his fill, and then he left me there." She noticed his face pale, so much paler than hers, and his fists clench. She reached out to him, she wanted to comfort him.

Peter flinched as Darcy reached out to him. "Darce, this is all my fault," he watched her, lost for words, as her breath quickened and the tears fell down in pairs down her delicate cheeks. "If I was there, if I hadn't gotten drunk, you would've been safe." All of that was true to him, it was too true. He punched his fist down on the couch, and this time Darcy flinched. "Just…go," he said, watching her helplessly grab her bag and speed out of the room before he could even finish. He changed his mind quickly. "No, wait. Darcy please, we can deal with this together." It was too late; she was already outside, crying as she got into her car. "Darce, please. Stay." She didn't seem to hear him, she just muttered soft words. "I'm sorry Peter, for all of this. I shouldn't have told you, everything goes wrong the second I touch it. I have to go." Those were the only words he caught, but it almost seemed like a final goodbye to him. He turned around and kicked the door a good five times, harder each time. She was wrong; it was him that screwed everything up, him that ruined innocent people's lives. He walked inside; breathing heavily and wondering what was going to happen wither. He quickly dialed Manny's number, but there was no answer. Of course, there was Spirit Squad practice that Darcy had almost cut.

Meanwhile, Darcy sped away in her car, going to the only place where she didn't have to think about things like that. Where she didn't have to ponder what just happened, what she could've done better, and why she had done that to Peter. She parked at Degrassi and put on her uniform, but then something glinted from the corner of her eye. A razor probably left behind by one of the girls. All of a sudden, she was faced with an undeniable urge to end this now, to make sure that no one would get hurt by her again. She would never have to think about _him_ again, or about the way she had hurt Peter, or the way she had worried Manny. She wouldn't have to replay moments in her mind again and again, she wouldn't have the constant fear of being watched and followed, of being violated again and of being hurt again. She fingered the razor right then, cutting her finger and watching the scarlet blood drip down. The pain felt good, a welcome release from all the pain she felt inside, it was a pain she felt outside. She didn't want anyone to suffer again because of her, and this was the only way to do it.

Darcy took the razor and pulled up one of her sleeves, revealing the lighter skin of her arm and the blue color of the frail veins of her body. She felt a sense of dread, but also of hope, and of relief for ending this all. All the pain, all of everything she caused and ended. She pulled the razor across her skin slowly, and almost screamed from the horrible pain it caused. She did it again; unable to look at what was coming out of her arm. She did it until her arm felt numb, and then with a sense of fear and even more dread, she realized she didn't want to die. She stumbled to the showers, holding onto one of them until they all turned on, spraying her. The red blood that was gushing out of her wrist splayed all over the ground, and Darcy sunk down to the ground. There was no hope for her except for the blackness of death, and who knew how long it would be until someone came in. She would bleed to death before anyone came to help her, or came to get changed. Already she was feeling weaker, and lightheaded. With a final blow to try and ease the pain, she slashed her wrist one more time. And then she just sat there, letting the tears mix with water as all of her pain was hit by waves of more pain, and as the tears fell down her face. **"Darcy!" **_Manny,_ she thought dimly, now sobbing and gasping for air as the hot water hit her face.**"Hold this" **Darcy was only dimly aware of her words as she began to feel her consciousness slip away, but she pressed the towel to her wrist. She was saved. She just pressed her head against the wall and cried for everything, the pain, the fear, the anger, and the paranoia.


End file.
